Penelope’s Pleasure (A Gentleman’s Guide To Understanding Women Book 1)

by Deborah Villegas

  “Pen, Sweet Pen, My love.”

  Chapter 28

  Penelope waited in the pouring rain under a tree and worried her gloves.

  She’d woken in the ships cabin alone. Clothes were laid out and a hip bath had been left. She assumed Edward wanted to give her privacy for her morning ablutions.

  When she finished dressing, she went up to the deck expecting him, but he wasn’t anywhere to be found. After an hour spent watching the sailors unload cargo onto the Southampton docks and ask embarrassing questions alluding to her health, the weather, and bumble over her new title, Edward strolled up the gang plank looking every bit the formidable duke, disapproving scowl and all. Formal, clipped, and aloof. The one time he did look at her, the heat in his gaze so befuddled her, she turned away hoping the wind hid the burn in her cheeks and sudden sting of tears.

  Two days later, she still didn’t know what she had done to cause his ire? He was sullen and quiet and withdrawn. Was he unhappy with her? Had she displeased him in the marriage bed?

  She still couldn’t believe she was married to The Duke of Berwick. Lord Edward Westfield. She still couldn’t believe he had tossed her over his shoulder as soon as the ship’s captain pronounced them man and wife. She still couldn’t get her legs to cooperate.

  She felt like a newborn foal unsure of her bearings. Every time Edward looked at her, she blushed from the top of her ears to the bottom of her feet. It didn’t matter if they were alone or in the common room of an inn. He made her world tilt so far off its axis with just one smoldering glance, she wasn’t sure she’d ever find her footing. She didn’t like not being in control and the closer they got to London, the worse her misgivings.

  She was a Duchess. A married woman. A wife. A damned fool.

  “Penelope?”

  She jerked and dropped her gloves.

  Edward picked them up and returned them. “Are you all right?”

  She searched the inn’s courtyard. “I’m fine.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re as skittish as a cat trapped in the kennels.” He leaned in and scowled. “What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing. I’m just…I just want to get home.” Home to her room, familiar surroundings, her brothers. Home to Reggie. He would help her find some way out of this mess. That was what Reggie did. He excelled at extracting his siblings from trouble. And she would gladly accept any punishment he allotted. Well, within reason.

  “Are you sure you don’t want to wait out the rain? I can get us a private room.”

  Her stomach clinched. The last thing she wanted was a private room with her husband. Being alone with Edward was worse than sitting in a room full of people staring at her. The one night they had spent at an inn, he slept on the floor, suggesting the bed was too narrow for them both and too short to accommodate his height. Not that it wasn’t true, but he seemed relieved.

  She was a disappointment and it was apparent that Edward considered their marriage a mistake and only a matter of time before he would drop her off at one of his vast estates and leave her to rusticate. Leave her in shattered pieces alone with her dreams and longings and wanton musings. She didn’t know how to stop the inevitable. Her life was cascading so far out of control, if she didn’t stop it soon, she would end up like a tragic damsel out of on of her Gothic novels, broken at the bottom of a medieval keep.

  “I’m sure.”

  Edward shook his head. “The mounts are rested. If we leave now, we should make it to London by early evening. I still don’t understand why you prefer riding in this rain rather than traveling in a dry coach.”

  “I like the rain.” She blinked away the wet and shook out her sodden skirt.

  Before she could mount, Edward swung her into the saddle. “Fine, you like the rain. But if you get sick, I will paddle your bare bottom until it’s bright pink.”

  Heat flared in her cheeks. “So now I am to be beaten? What’s next? Banishment?”

  There, she’d said it. The words were out. She might as well get the ugly business over with.

  “What the hell are you talking about, Boots?”

  Her bottom lip trembled, and she bit the inside to keep the sob at bay. Thank God for the rain or he’d see the tears that sprang up every time she thought of him leaving her. She turned her horse and waited for Edward to mount.

  The silence of the ride pounded into her heart like a death knell.

  Would they share a room, or would she be sentenced to another sleepless night tossing in a lonely bed? Or worse, would he drop her off at her home and then go to his?

  * * *

  Edward set a steady pace, a determined pace, a grueling pace. It was the only way he could think of to wear himself out. One more night sleeping on the floor so close to Penelope yet unable to touch her and he was going to go mad. But he would wait. He had to. He’d seen the stiffness in her posture when he walked up the gang plank after arranging for a carriage. He’d been a brute.

  He just hoped Penelope would forgive him for his base behavior. She didn’t deserve to be treated like one of his mistresses. He ground his teeth. Just remembering her response to his every touch made the ride even more uncomfortable.

  By the time they arrived in London it was dusk. Penelope had ridden in front of him most of the way and she sat so stiff in the saddle, an army would stop to give way. She wasn’t open to conversation and rode with single minded purpose.

  Edward just wished he knew what that purpose was.

  They rode into the mews at the St. James house in Mayfair and Tom ran out to greet them. The rain had been relentless, and Edward and Penelope were both soaked through.

  Edward swung from his horse intending to help his bride, but she was already off and halfway to the house.

  “Penelope, wait for me.”

  “Go to the blazes. I will not be put aside.” There was more, but it was muffled by the slam of the door.

  Tom grinned. “Miss St. James doesn’t seem any worse for wear.”

  “From now on you may refer to my wife as her Grace.” It was meant as a rebuke but came out like spoiled wine.

  Tom’s jaw dropped and hung suspended like a broken shutter then he threw back his head and laughed so hard, the horses spooked.

  “I’m glad you find it amusing considering you are now in my employ.” It was a low blow, but Edward wasn’t sure if Tom’s amusement was drawn from him, or his bride. Either way, Tom needed to know his place and Edward was not in good humor. His arse was chafed literally and figuratively—both due to his recalcitrant wife. What made her think he would put her aside?

  He took a few seconds to stomp the mud from his boots and shake out his water-logged greatcoat, then he gathered his patience and walked into hell.

  It wasn’t hard to track his wife. She left a sodden trail from the back hall to the front entry and was yelling at the top of her lungs.

  Edward stopped just inside the main hall and flicked his gloves against his thigh.

  “Where is Reggie?”

  Bowers, The St. James butler, glowered at the puddle of water spreading at Penelope’s feet and ignored her outburst. “I just polished the floor.”

  Penelope stomped her foot. “Where is my brother?”

  “I was enjoying a dull book in the library.”

  She swung around and her skirts slapped against her legs. Droplets spiraled a pattern across the floor.

  Reggie leaned against the wall like a cat. His gaze slid over her with arrogant disapproval and she raised her chin like a rapier, ready to parry the first attack.

  “Do I even want to know what is going on?”

  Penelope dissolved. Dissolved into lip trembling, nose dripping, shoulder shaking, tears.

  Before Edward could take a step, Reggie had his sister engulfed in his arms and she was blabbering incoherently into his brocade waist coat.

  “France couldn’t have been that bad, Pen. I know the roads are terrible this time of year and they don’t like to bathe, but…”

  She sno
rted into his coat with a sniff and hung on as if he were her only grip on reality. “France was fine. I’m just,” She stepped back and Edward sucked in his breath. Penelope looked broken. Was he the cause?

  Reggie lifted his sister’s chin.

  She looked at her brother then at Edward but her gaze was fleet. The smile she presented fell flat, then folded. “I’m just done in.”

  “Go upstairs. I’ll send Lizzy to attend you. You smell like a horse and all this affection is straining my patience and making a mess of my attire. Riggins is going to need smelling salts when he sees the wrinkles in my new coat.”

  Penelope took a deep breath and turned to the stairs. The first tread was shaky. She gripped the newel post, collected her skirts, and Edward watched his duchess ascend the steps.

  As soon as Penelope was out of sight, Reggie whirled. “What the bloody hell happened on the way to London?”

  Edward studied his new brother-in-law. Reggie looked hollowed out and appeared ready to take a swing. Edward half hoped he would. The other half just wanted a drink. A drink was definitely in order. He ignored Reggie and strode past him into the library, shrugging off his greatcoat and tossing it to Bowers on his way.

  Reggie followed in his wake. “I want answers, Westfield.”

  “And I want a whiskey.”

  Edward poured a glass, drained it, and poured a second.

  Reggie flopped into a chair near the fire. “Good God man, slow down or I’ll never get you out of my library.”

  Edward took the remaining seat opposite and stared into the flames. He wasn’t ready to air his troubles with his wife of less than a week. Especially to her family. “Did Ferris find Frances?”

  Reggie dropped his head and ran his fingers through his hair in a very un-Stansworth-y manner. “No. not yet. I have no idea where they are, or if he was able to stop Miss Wilcot from eloping with Mr. Granger,”

  “And Miss Bishop?”

  Reggie stared at the fire in the hearth for several seconds and then shook his head. “The incorrigible Miss Bishop has fallen off the face of the earth as well. I have runners everywhere. For all I know, she has stowed away on a ship back to India.”

  “And Mrs. La Pierre?”

  Reggie stood and poured himself glass of whiskey. “Newgate.” With a mock salute he downed his glass and dropped back into his seat. “Now, if we have finished discussing my wayward wards, I’d like to know why my sister looks broken—and before you ask, No, my sister has never looked like that.”

  Edward heaved a sigh. Where to start? Bloody hell. Now that they were back in England. Back in London, all Edward wanted was to go back to John Luke’s ship. He didn’t want to explain what happened to Penelope or his behavior. “Clive beat her. He intended to force her to wed.”

  Reggie waved his hand. “I already know everything. John Luke sent a messenger with a letter from Mabrey as soon as the ship docked explaining what took place in France. I want to know what happened between Southampton and here.”

  “You know?”

  Reggie wilted and chinned his chest. “My father and I have already discussed the matter and if you want to cry off, we will not dispute the issue. There is no point in pursuing matrimony. If Penelope wants to remain unwed, we will respect her wishes.”

  The muscles in Edward’s jaw clinched and he gripped his glass. Now they wanted to cry off? “Well it’s too bloody late for that. I made Penelope my duchess two days past.”

  Reggie’s head snapped up and he stared at Edward—first with disbelief then with a dawning understanding. A whimsical smile hovered at the corners of his mouth and grew into a riotous grin. “John Luke will pay for keeping that little secret. I suppose congratulations are in order.”

  Edward remained mute and drained his glass. Maybe if his wife was happy, but Penelope was not.

  Reggie’s mouth turned grim. “You are to be congratulated, are you not?”

  Edward set his glass aside and stood. “The marriage will stand.”

  “But isn’t Penelope happy? I mean, you did. Didn’t you?” Reggie was on his feet too.

  Bloody hell, again with his manly dignity. “Yes, the marriage has been consummated. No, Penelope is not happy. At the moment, she is very unhappy.”

  “But why?”

  Edward threw up his hands. If only he knew.

  “May I give you some advice?”

  “No.”

  “If you want to have a modicum of sanity in your life, the only way you will ever achieve it, is to make sure Penelope is happy. Otherwise she will make your life miserable. Apologize. Grovel if you have to. Man, to man, sanity is a sanctity that must be maintained at all cost.”

  “I am not going to apologize for something I didn’t do.”

  Reggie’s eye’s full mooned. “You can’t give her back.”

  Edward had heard enough. It was apparent Reggie had lost his sanity and sanctity was already damned. He strode out of the library determined to find out what had put Penelope at odds.

  Even if he had to grovel.

  * * *

  Penelope sat in the tub in front of the fire and twisted Edward’s ducal ring around her finger. How long would it take before her husband informed her that he was leaving? Or had he already left?

  It shouldn’t matter. She was better off without him. He didn’t love her. He didn’t want her. He made it abundantly clear. The bed at the inn was larger than the bunk in the cabin, yet he’d chosen the floor.

  Her chest constricted and she forced the sob to the back of her throat. How could she let this happen? How did he manage to worm his way into her heart? How could loving him hurt so much?

  She pressed the wet cloth to her face. If she didn’t stop the incessant tears, her eyes would swell shut and then everyone would know her secret. Penelope St. James was human after all.

  E-Gad, how did that happen?

  The door opened and clicked shut.

  “Go away.” She didn’t bother turning around. It was humiliating enough that she had a meltdown in front of Bowers, she didn’t want anyone else to see the miserable wreck she had become—runny nose, puffy eyelids, and all. At least she had managed to pull herself together by the time she reached the top landing. Maintaining her composure until the footmen filled the tub and Lizzy helped her undress was almost too much to bear.

  “I’m not going anywhere.”

  The familiar baritone rumbled across her nerves and her heart galloped in her chest. She sloshed around so quick her bottom slipped and she almost gave herself a dunking. “What are you doing in here?”

  Edward pushed away from the door and pulled at his cravat. “I am your husband. Is the water still hot?”

  She gripped the lip until her knuckles turned white. “Not for much longer, and don’t even think about climbing into my bath.”

  “We need to talk, and the bath is as good a place as any.” He tugged off his boots and hose, peeled away his wet shirt, then dragged over a chair to face the tub and dropped into the seat with a grunt.

  Penelope scooted to the far end and pulled her knees up. She didn’t trust Edward. Well, she trusted him with her life, but not in her bath. Or Reggie’s bath.

  Apparently, Reggie was worried about her because the footmen brought his personal tub into her room. The tub he had specially made to accommodate his height. The tub he had forbidden she and Ferris to ever touch. Of course, that was after he found out they were using it to store live frogs.

  Edward propped his chin in his hand and watched her as if he were puzzling through a problem.

  His silence was worse than Reggie’s and she worried the cloth with nervous fingers.

  “Why do you think I will set you aside?”

  She swallowed the knot threatening to choke her and studied the marble freeze above the mantle. Cherubs frolicking among woodland animals. “Isn’t that what happens when husbands tire of their wives? They send them away to rusticate?”

  The fire popped and she darted a quick glance at h
er husband then lowered her lashes to shut out the pain. Pain so intense her insides curled into a tight ball of self-preservation. She would never forget the way he looked at that singular moment. Ashen save for the sharp red slash of his cheeks and his gaze so severe it stole her breath.

  “Only if there is no love between them.”

  Her chest caved, crushing her heart. She shut her eyes, dropped her head to her knees and hugged herself. It was too much. She didn’t want to hear or think or hurt any more. “Stop. Please.” The sob forced its way past her lips.

  Warm hands gripped her wrists and then she was out of the tub and onto his lap with such speed, she cried out.

  Edward pulled the drying cloth around her and hugged her close. “Don’t Penelope. Don’t cry. Please don’t cry. Tell me what I’ve done to upset you? Tell me so I can say I’m sorry. Whatever it was, it wasn’t my intention.”

  “But—” She hiccupped and burrowed her face into his shoulder to hide her shame. Saying the words was far worse than thinking them. Saying the words was an acknowledgment of defeat. Shame burned her cheeks. She wasn’t good enough. “You slept on the floor.”

  He tensed. Every muscle turned to stone as if she was locked in a cage of granite.

  Then he started to shake.

  She leaned away to look at him. Heat rushed to her face and dried her tears. He was laughing at her. Enjoying her humiliation. She felt like a whore trapped in a confessional.

  She tried to shove off. “Let me go you cad. You devil. You rogue.”

  He held her firm. “Oh no you don’t, Boots. You aren’t going anywhere. Not until I make it clear that I love you.”

  “You love to humiliate me.” Rage warmed her blood.

  Edward gripped her arms and turned her to face him.

  His features turned harsh. His mouth thinned and fine lines split his brows. The color of his eyes deepened until they were dark Sapphires. Two days of stubble stood at attention. “I slept on the floor because I love you.”

  She stopped her struggle. “What?”